


Learning to Start Over

by facelesswriting



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Cheating, Divorce, F/M, Falling In Love, Post-Hogwarts, Ron Bashing, Starting Over, but like they both have their faults, more tags to come, new relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-06-22 02:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15571365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facelesswriting/pseuds/facelesswriting
Summary: Hermione and Ron haven't been happy for a long time. She's too busy. He's too inattentive. She's tired. He's angry. When they fall apart, how will the broken pieces fall back together?





	1. More of the Usual

It had been a hard day, Hermione sighed. Scratch that, actually, it had been a hard few months… or years really. Not that she didn’t love her job. It was just draining. Starting a new department, fighting the Ministry to accept - let alone value! - that department, and balancing the aftermath of the war was just so constant. There was never a break, never a day off.

 

She tripped walking up the steps to her flat, dropping her keys but saving her armload of papers, and her mind instantly flashed back to when she’d first started Hogwarts and she’d had buck teeth and bushy hair. Said hair blew into her face with the wind as she bent to retrieve her keys, and she amended her thought. She sighed again. She knew her hair was tameable, but she was too tired most days to even bother.

 

Fighting the armload of papers that wanted to fall, her hair that wanted let loose, and her keys that stuck in their old bolt, Hermione let herself in. “Ron? I’m home! Can you come help me?” She listened for a moment before deciding that he wasn’t coming. He was home. He had to be as it was a Sunday night and no one - save her, and least of all  _ him _ \- worked until 8 on a Sunday, not during Quidditch season.

 

Hermione gave a silent prayer that her key would come out easy for once, then yanked, ripping the key from the lock and upending her files in one clean motion. Tears pricked her eyes. No one else’s week had even  _ begun _ but she could already tell hers would be terrible. She bit her tears back.

 

“That’s not true,” she murmured, bending to pick up her fallen items. She ignored the wind catching the door and slamming it against the wall. “Stay positive. You have a good life so live it instead of complaining.”

 

“Where the hell have you been?” Ron came around the corner. His face instantly went red as he spied the door. “Fuck, Hermione! How many times have I told you! I haven’t had a chance to put the spring behind the door yet so you can’t just fling it open. Now I have to fix the hole in the wall. Again!”

 

They’d been married for two years now so Hermione judged she knew Ron well enough to know - not just guess - that he was at least three beers in, and his team was probably losing. She knew better than to ask but she did anyway, “When you fix the hole, will you put the spring on at the same time?”

 

“You’re kidding me, right? Did you do that on purpose?” He shouted, pointing at the wall.

 

“I  _ called _ for help.  _ You  _ couldn’t be arsed to care!”

 

“Merlin, Hermione. You are so frustrating! You always have to be right, and you always have to get your way. I’m so sick of-” He would have continued, but there was cheering coming from the telly in the other room. Ron froze, then bounded after the noise, not bothering to help her with the mess.

 

“MOTHERFUCK!”

 

Hermione frowned. That must mean Zimbabwe’s Five Points had beaten the South African Hissing Ducks, and Ron’s Cannons would have to play them for a spot in the playoffs. They had a much better offense, and she wondered vaguely if Ron could stand up to their chasers this year. It was bad enough that the Cannons had lost the Cup to them a few years back, starting up a harsh losing streak that they’d only just recovered from this season. She shook off the intruding thoughts. She wouldn’t allow herself to be so easily distracted like Ron was.

 

Righting herself and dropping back to the floor all the papers she’d managed to gather, Hermione took a centering breath, gripped the door, and slammed it shut just as hard as she could.

 

There was silence from the other room, then a small metallic noise as Ron shut the telly off. She waited, not moving so as not to disturb the hush, knowing it would just piss Ron off even more. Finally, she heard even, unhurried footsteps. It sounded calm, but she knew her winning the battle of wills had just lit the fuse to an explosion.

 

“What. The actual. Fuck.” Ron’s shoulders were raised and his head was dropped forward in low like an animal stalking its prey as he came back around the corner.

 

“Say it.” Hermione’s tone was demanding, but she wasn’t in the mood. She could see dishes piled in the sink from where she stood, the laundry basket was next to the basement doorway where she’d placed it this morning while asking Ron to put in at least one load today while she was gone, and she could tell that the house hadn’t been vacuumed. This wasn’t the time. They’d both had bad days. But it seemed there was never the time anymore.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

“What are you so sick of? We were in the middle of a conversation, and you just walked away to watch a silly game. Are you saying-”

 

He cut her off, “We weren’t in the middle of a conversation; we were in the middle of a fight! A game? A  _ game _ ? This is my  _ career!  _ You’d recognize it if you had one!”

 

“That a game is more important than me? That waiting an extra two seconds would dramatically change the course of your life? How  _ dare you _ say I don’t have a career when I’m trying to do something worthwhile while you just play-” They were talking over each other as Hermione refused to be railroaded into silence.

 

“I never said it was more important, but it’s my job to know these things! Don’t demean my job when last I checked, I was the one bringing home the money. You don’t even have to work! If you’d just-”

 

“With a broom for fun! Your job is entertainment not progress. How dare you bring salary into this when you know -”

 

“Quit you could stay home and do all the things you’re too lazy - oh, I’m sorry, “tired” -” She growled as he used his fingers to put air quotes around the word.

 

“I’ll be making just as much per year as you if not-”

 

“And you know what I’m sick of! I’m sick of YOU.”

 

“More…” Hermione trailed off, her voice having lost all of its power as she registered what Ron had said. He’d fallen silent too as if he hadn’t known what was going to come out of his mouth until he’d heard it.

 

“‘Mione.”

 

“Don’t.” She held up a hand as Ron took a step forward. “Don’t talk to me. I’ll give you the space you need since my being here is obviously such a burden on you.” Hermione said it all in monotone as she walked past him to their bedroom door, only turning to look at him when she reached it. “And I hate that nickname.”

  
  
  



	2. Goodnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no recollection of writing any of this??? But it's in my googledrive and it's definitely my style so I guess we'll all be seeing what happens??

Ch 2: Goodnight

It felt like years, but was only an hour or two when Hermione finally emerged from their room. At first she felt a hot flash of anger go through her when she saw Ron was parked in front of the telly again. It vanished just as quickly, however, when she looked around and noticed her papers had been stacked neatly on the freshly cleaned kitchen counter.

Ron hadn’t heard her walk in, but he jumped a little when she spoke, “Have you eaten dinner?”

“Yeah, before you got home.” He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable. “I had the last of the leftovers.”

Hermione closed her eyes, “Okay.”

That hurt him somehow, deep inside, that he’d knowingly done something inconsiderate, but at some point it had become so normal for him that it didn’t even warrant a reaction from her.

“I can make-”

“It’s fine,” she murmured, padding quietly into the kitchen and pulling out a pan.

She was only ever this quiet when she’d been crying, Ron knew, but she’d washed the evidence of it from her face so thoroughly that it was his only sign. He hesitated, wondering if he could play the old muggle war film he’d been watching or if he should go in the kitchen with her. Eventually, he sighed and set down the remote.

“‘Mione,” He stopped, halfway through pulling out a barstool, and corrected himself, “Hermione, I didn’t mean what I said about-”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I need to say this.”

“But maybe I don’t need to hear it.” She slapped her spatula down on the counter while her eggs cooked, voice breaking. She was composed when she turned back around. “Did you ever think about that? That maybe it helps you to say it but it doesn’t help me to listen?”

Suddenly it was too bright in the kitchen. Ron’s eyes were smarting like he’d just walked out in the sun for the first time after being indoor for days, but he knew that wasn’t right. Their kitchen was dim, even in the middle of the day with all the shades opened. Plus there was a bulb out in the fan that he’d been meaning to fix for weeks now and hadn’t gotten around to it. Another was flickering as if it was about to give up too.

“I didn’t mean it like I said it. It came out all jumbled. I could never be sick of you,” he continued anyway, hoping against hope that he could salvage the situation. “All I meant was that we’ve changed a lot, you know? And sometimes I wish I could go back to when the things you were on me about were things I car-”

She watched him catch himself, his eyes wide and his mouth open a split second after any sound had come out. “You wanted to say it so say it.” When he didn’t answer, she turned back to scrambling her eggs. “You wish you could go back to when I nagged you about things you actually cared about.”

“I have never said that you nag!”

“But you admit that we don’t care about the same things.” She heard him get up, forgetting as he always did to push his stool back under the bar, and she didn’t move as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I will always care about the things you care about,” he whispered in her ear, “even if just because you care about them.”

She smiled and turned in his arms to press a light kiss against his stubbly cheek.

“Come to bed,” he offered.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Hermione protested, but Ron just pushed her back up against the oven, reaching past her to flip off the stove burner and push her pan off the hotplate.

“C’mon, ‘Mione.” He dragged her by the hand as she looked back at the kitchen, thinking about how difficult it’d be to clean the pan in the morning and noticing that while he’d washed the dishes earlier, he hadn’t dried them or put them away.

It wasn’t until later when he rolled off of her, satisfied but a different sort of frustrated, that he’d actually managed to pull her full attention back to him.

“‘Just stop’?” He repeated her words back to her.

“It’s just - It’s not going to happen tonight. It’s fine, Ron.”

He’d heard that things were fine so often tonight that the word was starting to lose meaning to him. He scoffed, “I don’t understand why you’re so hot and cold, ‘Mione, and I don’t know how you expect me to get anything right when you’re never clear-”

“Please, let’s don’t start again.” Her voice was pleading, but Ron barely noticed.

“I swear it’s like you don’t even pay attention to me anymore.”

That’s rich, she thought to herself. “How about I come home early tomorrow, and we can have some time just the two of us?”

“Aren’t you ever sick of it just being the two of us?” Ron mused. When Hermione hesitated, he continued, “Have you ever thought of us starting a family?”

Quickly, her mind flashed to an image of her and Ron in some park, Ron scooping up a vibrant-haired child while she watched with a baby swaddled in her arms. “You were just saying that I don’t have enough time for you.”

“Forget it.”

“I didn’t say no!” Hermione argued. “But would you want to end your career to stay home with kids? With the hours I work, you wouldn’t be able to travel anymore.”

“Who said I had to give up my career?” He shifted his arm, making it clear he wanted her to stop leaning against him so he could see her clearly.

“Well you’re the one pushing for a family all the time. I figured you’d want to be home for it.”

“So you think I’m trying to trap you into a family? Great, ‘Mione, just great. I’m sure our kids would love to know their mother doesn’t want them enough to be around.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Don’t shout in my face!”

“Don’t shout in mine!” She retorted, but he’d already continued.

“I knew your bloody job was important to you, but I guess I didn’t realize you were taking a family off the table.”

“I’m not taking it off the table. It just has to wait. I’m a one person department. If I leave now, everything I’ve done will be for nothing. If you want kids now, you’re going to have to be the one to stay home. Or you can compromise and wait for me to catch up.”

“Why am I the only one compromising?”

“You’re not! If we go for it now, I’ll still have to take time off work and I’ll have to miss out on watching our babies grow up, and you’ll give up your career, but if you have to wait so you can keep playing, I’ll have to give up my job.”

“It sounds to me like both situations suck then, right? Let’s just not do it. Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, Ron, I’m trying to give you your career and a family. I just can’t do it in the timeline you want because my job-”

“Is important. I get it.”

“Do you?”

“No. But it’s fine. Right? Isn’t that what you keep saying? It’s fine. We’re fine. Everything’s fine. It’s all crashing down around us, but it’s fine.”

“Ron, stop it. Stay positive. We have a good life so live it instead of complaining.”

“Why do you always say that?”

Hermione was startled. “Because it’s true, and it’s a good reminder, don’t you think?

“Sure. Fine. Whatever. Goodnight, ‘Mione.”

He rolled away from her, shoulders held in a tense line. She huffed and tried to settle down. “Goodnight, Ron.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using a really common trope, 10 points to whoever guesses it first. Name will probably change, as will rating. Leave me a little something to inspire me to actually finish this one. Gosh guys, this does not have a happy beginning, but I promise the end will be cute. Probably.


End file.
